


Redux

by LydiaBSlade



Series: Destination Unknown [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Military, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, BenArmie AU, Bottom Kylo Ren, Dysfunctional Relationships, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Medical Kink, Referenced Mitaka/Thanisson, Referenced Sexism, Rimming, background Phasma/Unamo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 22:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaBSlade/pseuds/LydiaBSlade
Summary: Light medical kink is probably not the best way to fix your dysfunctional relationship, but Ben and Hux give it a try anyway.





	Redux

**Author's Note:**

> Please see endnotes for detailed content warnings.

_x75717: hey_

_x75717: how’s your night going?_

_Ky10_R3n: oh hey!_

_Ky10_R3n: crappy_

_Ky10_R3n: my parents have been fighting all day about something that happened on the trip my dad just came back from but they won’t tell me what’s going on_

_Ky10_R3n: and my fucking uncle is here_

_Ky10_R3n: he’s meditating in the living room, unless he’s just asleep_

_Ky10_R3n: every so often he tries to get my parents to stop yelling at each other by telling them, like, a Zen koan or something_

_Ky10_R3n: on the bright side, I think my mom may actually kill him soon, which would be awesome_

_Ky10_R3n: anyway_

_Ky10_R3n: sorry_

_Ky10_R3n: how are you doing?_

_x75717: fine_

_x75717: just bored_

_Ky10_R3n: home for the holidays?_

_x75717: yes, it’s thrilling as always_

_Ky10_R3n: ugh, yeah. everything going okay with you and your dad?_

_x75717: going great, he’s fucked off to Mexico for the holiday with his girlfriend_

_x75717: so I’ve got the apartment to myself_

_Ky10_R3n: oh yeah?_

_Ky10_R3n: want company?_

It’s Christmas Eve. Hux has been alone in the apartment for almost a week now. He enjoyed it, at first: it was a relief to have the time to work on his own projects, instead of frantically studying for his term-end exams; to be able to shower in a private room, without having to wear rubber sandals; to be free of the feeling that someone might at any moment be looking over his shoulder. And the peaceful emptiness of the apartment was infinitely preferable to the strained silence that would have pervaded the place if Brendol had been there. But even so, after a few days, the solitude began to pulse in his brain. 

He has been keeping himself busy: he’s finally forced himself to finish John Keegan’s _Intelligence in War_ , which he had pre-ordered when he first heard it was going to be released, but which, to Hux’s disappointment, has not turned out to be as gripping as Keegan’s earlier books about the world wars. 

More fruitfully, he has finally been able to start sketching out a new project that he has been mulling over ever since he had been forced to turn his cave-exploration robot over to the electrical-engineering department at the end of plebe year. Unlike that first project, which had a simple metal frame, his new robot will be soft-skinned, powered by hydraulics, able to partially deflate itself in order to squeeze through tight spaces. And instead of wheels, it will have legs - eight spider-like legs, to be precise, to allow it to step delicately over rough terrain. Hux loves it. Looking at the sketches he’s completed for it sends a small throb of happiness through him. 

He has been working out, as well: dutifully lifting the weights that have been sitting in a corner of his room since the eighth grade, and running in Central Park, pushing himself to keep going, through the icy air that burns in his lungs. The park is very grey these days: the trees are leafless but not yet covered with snow. Circling the frozen reservoir, again and again, he passes the path that leads to Ben’s apartment, and he forces himself not to turn his feet towards it. 

In a moment of weakness, he messaged Matt one night, remembering that Matt had mentioned loving New York City. He had thought that Matt might like to come down and see Manhattan at Christmastime. Matt, however, is no longer available. He is in love, he informed Hux proudly. Hux doesn’t understand how a person could possibly have fallen deeply in love in the six weeks between Halloween and winter break, but apparently Matt has managed it.

Walking aimlessly and endlessly through the city by himself, Hux feels like an alien anthropologist, observing human rituals from an academic distance. The December sun sets in the late afternoon, but in Midtown, the streets are wreathed in light long into the night. Glowing Christmas bells hang at every intersection. Tiffany’s Fifth Avenue store is wrapped in an enormous red ribbon of tiny bulbs. Hux threads his way through the crowds of happy tourists, being shoved by families trying to see the Rockefeller Center tree and irritated by the sidewalk-blocking knots that form as people pose for pictures in front of Bergdorf-Goodman’s decorated windows. The winter wind is especially frigid in the canyons of the city streets. 

On Christmas Eve, the only sound in the apartment is the barely-perceptible hum of the central-heating system. Hux doesn’t think of himself as the sort of person who is sentimental about holidays, but something about the combination of circumstances had made it impossible for him to go on ignoring the fact that Ben was also online. Now, Ben’s _want company?_ flickers on the screen of Hux’s laptop like a will-o’-the-wisp.

 _Yes_ , he types back. _Come over._

***

“You know what I keep thinking about?” Ben asks, an hour or so later. He’s nuzzling at Hux’s ear, half on top of Hux now, in Hux’s bed; his body is like a warm, heavy blanket. He’s wearing a loose tank top and a pair of black sweatpants, possibly with nothing underneath. Through the soft cotton, Hux can feel Ben getting hard against his thigh.

“What?” Hux asks, squirming against him.

“The doctor’s-office thing,” Ben says huskily. He sucks at the underside of Hux’s jaw for a moment. “This room just feels so cold and institutional, it makes me want you to examine me. Find out what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re so absurd,” Hux says, turning his head to kiss Ben, sliding his tongue into Ben’s hot mouth. “Have you never seen a neat, uncluttered room that wasn’t a doctor’s office?”

“Come on, you’ll like it,” Ben says, between kisses. His warm fingers are slipping under Hux’s shirt now; he strokes the thin skin in the hollow of Hux’s hip lightly with his thumb. “It combines two of your favorite activities: making me strip for you and telling me what’s wrong with me.”

Hux laughs. “If I have to find everything that’s wrong with you this might be a long examination.”

“Fine by me,” Ben says, kissing his neck again. “I’ve got all night.”

“I haven’t got a white coat. Or a - a stethoscope or anything.”

“You can just put on your regular clothes. Everything you wear looks like a uniform, anyway.”

“Oh, all right, fine,” Hux says, reluctantly sliding out from under Ben and standing up. “I can’t believe I have to put on _more_ clothes in order to fuck you these days.” 

“You can send me the dry-cleaning bill,” Ben says, rolling over into his stomach and looking up at Hux hopefully through his disheveled hair. 

Hux is half-tempted to tell Ben to shut up and let them get on with it without all the theatrical additions, but - there’s something pleasantly ridiculous about this, something unexpected and lighthearted, as if they were playing one of the nonsense games that Hux had rarely been invited to join in during his actual childhood. 

He walks into his closet and looks around for inspiration, eventually settling on dark slacks and a stiff white button-down shirt. At the last moment he adds a subdued paisley tie. It occurs to him that he looks more like an accountant than a doctor, but it will have to do. Stepping out of the closet, he picks up a clipboard and a pen from his desk, and attempts to look sternly at Ben. 

Ben is sitting on the edge of the bed, regarding Hux with great interest. His black tank top has fallen forward over one nipple: Hux wants to bite it, but that would be out of character. He clears his throat. “Good afternoon, Benjamin. What brings you here today? Are you ill?”

“Yeah, I think maybe I am,” Ben says, grinning. He coughs. “I, uh, I can’t stop jerking off. I thought maybe you could help me.”

Hux bites his lip, trying not to laugh. “You’ll probably want to see a psychiatrist about that,” he says solemnly. “It’s most likely got something to do with your traumatic childhood.”

Ben laughs. “Okay, maybe. But since I’m here, do you think maybe you could do a physical exam? Just to check?”

“Certainly,” Hux says briskly, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “We’ll want to rule out a physical issue first.”

“Yeah, good call,” Ben says eagerly. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Of course,” Hux says. “Take off your shirt.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Ben says sweetly, standing up and pulling his tank top over his head. 

Hux sets down the clipboard and steps towards him. He takes Ben’s jaw in his hand, running his thumb over Ben’s full lower lip, pressing down to open his mouth. Ben’s tongue flickers out to curl around his thumb and Hux represses a shiver. “That was very inappropriate,” he scolds, pulling his hand away.

“Sorry, Doctor.” Ben smirks at Hux. “I just have all these - compulsions. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, let’s proceed with the exam and see why you’re having so much difficulty controlling yourself,” Hux says. “Any pain here? Or here?” He runs his hands over Ben’s chest, squeezing his pecs, tweaking his nipples. Then lower, sliding his fingers over Ben’s abs, pressing firmly here and there, feeling the muscles shift as Ben breathes in. 

“No,” Ben says, looking at Hux hungrily. “Feels good.”

“Is that so,” Hux says, pausing with his hands on Ben’s hips. He can see the line of Ben’s erection beginning to press up against the fabric of his sweatpants. “You do seem to be suffering from some sort of sexual fixation. I’m afraid I’ll have to do a genital exam next.”

“No problem - want me to take off my pants now?”

“Yes, you’ll need to undress entirely for this part. Then lie down on the bed, please. And spread your legs.”

Ben complies immediately, yanking off his sweatpants - he is not, in fact, wearing underwear - and lying down on his back. He’s almost fully hard now, his thick cock flushed and pointing up towards his hip. “Sorry about that,” he says, grinning when he sees Hux staring at it. “I just, uh, can’t help myself. You know.”

“Indeed,” Hux says. “Well, that’s why you’re here. Knees up, please.” He reaches between Ben’s thighs, stroking his balls lightly, then taking hold of them more firmly, rolling them gently between his fingers and his thumb. “Any pain now?”

“No - _fuck_ \- “ Ben is squirming slightly as Hux touches him, breathing harder. His hips jerk as Hux massages the spot behind his balls firmly with two fingers. “It’s just - “

“You do seem to be unusually sensitive,” Hux says, watching as a drop of pre-come appears at the tip of Ben’s cock and slides slowly down the shaft. He wants to lick it off, but he isn’t sure how to incorporate that into the narrative. “That could be the reason for your inability to control yourself. I’ll have to test your sexual functioning to be sure.”

“Yeah,” Ben pants as Hux touches his cock lightly, pushing it from side to side with his fingers, sliding his thumb over the head. Hux tilts his chin and frowns, trying to look as if he is examining it for purely scientific reasons. “Yeah - _ah_ \- you should definitely do that.”

Hux looks around, momentarily out of character. “Oh - um, did you bring lube?”

“Oh - yeah,” Ben says eagerly, throwing his head back as Hux squeezes the shaft of his cock firmly. “Uh - inside my jacket. Right pocket.”

Hux retrieves the lube and makes a show of drizzling it over his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it. “First I need to understand more about your technique,” he says solemnly, taking hold of Ben’s cock firmly with his slippery right hand, stroking it slowly. “When you touch yourself, is this what you do?”

“Oh fuck me,” Ben groans, arching off the bed as Hux’s hand moves faster on his cock. Hux has always been self-conscious about how slender and small his hands are - like a girl’s, his father has remarked contemptuously on more than one occasion - but it does have the not-unpleasant side effect of making Ben’s cock look obscenely enormous as it slides through his fingers. “Yeah - just like that - that’s perfect - “

“I don’t think I have quite enough data yet,” Hux says, trying not to sound too breathless himself. His face feels hot; his cock throbs, pressed up against his zipper. “To understand why you have these obsessions.”

“I don’t know - I can’t help it - fuck, that feels good.“ Ben is biting his lip now, his eyes squeezed shut, his cock dripping freely onto Hux’s hand. “Don’t stop - “

Hux stops. “You seem to be a bit over-excited,” he says disapprovingly. “You’re not meant to be enjoying this. I’m simply gathering data.”

Ben groans, putting his hands over his face. “Trust you to take this way too seriously,” he says. “What more _data_ do you want?” 

“I’m going to choose to ignore your outbursts, for now,” Hux says, severely. “If we’re going to do this, it’s going to be done right. I’m trying to understand the nature of your problem.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“When you touch yourself,” Hux says, “do you do anything besides this?” Ben lets out a strangled sound as Hux squeezes the shaft of his cock. 

“Oh - uh, yeah. Sometimes I use toys when I jerk off.” 

“What kind of toys?”

“Like, plugs and vibrators and stuff.”

“For prostate stimulation?” Hux inquires, letting his fingers slide lower, over Ben’s balls, between his legs. Ben makes a small frantic noise in his throat, his hips twitching. “Is that something you enjoy?”

“Uh - yeah, for sure. I love it.” Ben spreads his legs wider, trying to get Hux to touch him where he wants to be touched.

“What does it do for you, exactly?” Hux asks, lightly stroking the rim of Ben’s hole with his index finger. 

“Oh fuck, I don’t know,” Ben whimpers, squirming against Hux’s hand. “Sticking things up my ass makes me come really hard - is that what you want to hear?”

“There’s no need to be vulgar, Benjamin,” Hux says reprovingly, withdrawing his hand and stepping back. “But in that case, I’ll need to do a prostate examination. Please stand up and bend over the bed.”

“You got it,” Ben says eagerly, jumping up and bending over the bed, as instructed. He arches his back and spreads his legs, looking flirtatiously at Hux over his shoulder. “Is that good?”

“Very good,” Hux says, trying not to sound too interested. He’s so hard now that it’s starting to be seriously uncomfortable. He adjusts himself discreetly and pours more lube onto his index finger. “I’m going to begin the exam now.”

“I’m ready,” Ben says immediately. “Oh - shit - yeah - “ Hux takes a deep breath as he slides one finger inside Ben, feeling that familiar wet, silky heat opening for him. Ben’s body jerks as he hits the right spot. “Right there - please - “

“Is this what you want?” Hux asks, massaging that spot, rubbing little circles over it, making Ben whimper and squirm. 

“Yes - please - more - “ Ben grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and slides it under his hips, grinding against it and crying out as Hux adds a second finger. Hux desperately wants to unzip his trousers, pull out his cock, and fuck him as hard as he can. But he’s also enjoying what this is doing to Ben - Ben is nearly sobbing, bucking his hips, entirely undone, while Hux is still fully dressed and apparently in control of himself.

When Hux can’t stand it any longer, he pulls his fingers out. Ben looks at him questioningly over his shoulder, his face bright red. “I think I’ve figured out how to solve your problem,” Hux announces, trying to sound calm.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Hux says, fumbling in Ben’s jacket pocket for a condom. He finds one and holds it up for Ben to see. “You need someone to fuck you properly. Give you what you need.”

“Yeah,” Ben pants, tilting his hips up invitingly, spreading his legs wider. “Please - give it to me - “

Hux finishes rolling on the condom, squeezes a more lube over it, and slams into Ben hard, too keyed-up to be gentle. Ben doesn’t seem to mind, pushing back against Hux and crying out on every thrust. Hux works a hand underneath him and wraps his fingers around Ben’s thick cock, stroking it as he fucks him, again and again, until Hux feels Ben’s body spasm around him as Ben’s come spills hot over his hand. He clings to Ben’s hips as his own orgasm hits him, arching his back and shuddering through the liquid heat of it. 

They collapse together afterwards, their legs tangled together, Hux’s face pressed into Ben’s silky, sweat-damp hair. Hux reluctantly pulls away long enough to throw away the condom and pull off the stiff shirt and trousers, then lies back down with his head on Ben’s chest. _I should get up and wash off_ , he thinks drowsily as Ben strokes his hair, but he can’t bring himself to move. 

“So are you going to kick me out again?” Ben asks lightly, his hand pausing on Hux’s head. 

Hux stiffens. “I didn’t kick you out last time. You said you needed to leave.”

“I didn’t say that, actually, but - okay.” Hux doesn’t respond, but he wraps his arms and legs more tightly around Ben. “Okay,” Ben says again, and goes back to stroking his hair.

***

In the morning, Hux is momentarily disoriented when he wakes to the feeling of Ben nuzzling at the back of his neck, kissing the side of his face. He wriggles back against Ben, pulling Ben’s arm more tightly around him.

“Mmm, Hux, hey,” Ben says softly in his ear. “I don’t want to leave, but I have to go. It’s Christmas morning and my family’s going to freak out if I’m not there for brunch.”

“Oh,” Hux says, blinking sleepily, “oh right, brunch.” Ben’s family always goes to get dim sum at a particular restaurant on Mott Street on Christmas morning; Hux knows this, because he went with them last year. 

Hux had been surprised, the year before, to find out that the Solos celebrated Christmas at all - not only with brunch in Chinatown, but with an enormous, elaborately-decorated Christmas tree that seemed to fill half the living room.

“It’s because of my dad,” Ben had said, shrugging, when Hux asked about it. “He likes shiny things, I guess. And it annoys the crap out of my mom, so that’s an extra bonus for him.”

“Sounds like a great way to celebrate the holiday spirit,” Hux had said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah - my mom always refused to have anything to do with Christmas decorations and stuff, so getting the tree and putting it up kind of turned into my thing with my dad. I loved it when I was a kid.” Ben had rolled his eyes. “So my dad gets to piss off my mom and pretend to be a good father at the same time. Win-win for him.”

Ben is standing up now, half-dressed, hopping on one foot to pull on his boot. “I really want to just bring you with me,” Ben says, looking at him a little sheepishly, “but - “

“But we’re not together anymore so it would be weird for me to barge in on your family at Christmas?” Hux snaps, now fully awake, sitting up to look at Ben. “I get it, you don’t have to explain.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Ben says, looking hurt. “I was just going to say - I mean, my family is annoying enough for me. I don’t need to inflict them on you.”

“Sure,” Hux says, annoyed at himself for sounding as though he’s upset to be left behind. Brunch last year had, in fact, been somewhat awkward; Hux has never gotten used to the way Ben’s family constantly interrupts each other and talks over each other. Hux’s meals with his father have always tended to be more silent than not, and he certainly would never dare to interrupt him. Hux had barely been able to get a word in as the Solos shouted over the restaurant noise and passed dumplings rapidly in all directions. 

Hux had wanted to ask Ben’s father and uncle about their military service - Ben had once mentioned in passing that they had both been drafted during Vietnam, but had only shrugged in a bored sort of way when Hux pressed him for additional details - but he hadn’t been able to find an opportune moment to bring it up. It occurred to him only later that their Vietnam experiences might not actually be the sort of thing they would enjoy recounting casually over brunch. 

“Yeah, so,” Ben is saying now, as he pulls on his jacket, “I wanted to ask you - I know you probably want to tell me to fuck off, but is it okay if I come back here later? After brunch?” He’s carefully not looking at Hux. 

Hux feels something suspiciously like happiness ballooning inside him. “I always want to tell you to fuck off,” he says, “but - yes. Come back later. If you want.”

“Okay, cool,” Ben says, grinning, as he leans over to kiss Hux goodbye. 

***

A few weeks later, Hux is at the library, in the study carrel that - to his great delight - he recently succeeded in having reserved for his personal use. It’s located on one of the library’s mezzanine floors, in an obscure part of the reference section; most of the time, there’s no one else on the floor and the silence is absolute. It smells of mildew and old books. Hux loves it intensely.

“Hux? Hey,” Phasma says, startling him as she steps out from behind a pillar. She looks around. The study carrels consist of desks separated by metal grates; Hux can close his behind him and padlock it when he leaves. It’s the one truly personal space he has on the base. “Wow, this place is like a jail cell. You actually hang out here voluntarily?”

“It’s a good place to concentrate, and I can keep all my books here,” Hux says stiffly. 

Phasma laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person I’ve ever met who actually comes here to study. Most people I know only come to this floor if they need a quiet place to hook up.”

Hux frowns. “I’m sorry, but I’m very busy just now. Did you need something?”

“Yeah, actually.” Phasma steps closer, leaning casually against Hux’s desk. Hux peers up at her suspiciously. “I wanted to ask you if you’d like to bring your boyfriend to the dance next month.”

Hux nearly chokes. “ _What?_ ”

“Hux, relax.” She pats his shoulder very firmly. “The reason I’m asking is that my girlfriend goes to Navy and I want to bring her up here for Valentine’s Day. If you take her to the dance as your date, I’ll bring your boyfriend as mine.”

“I - I don’t - “

“Hux, I’m not an idiot. I used to see you with that goth dude all the time. He must really like you if he’s willing to sit through Army football games for you.” She grins. “You should’ve brought him to rugby instead - we actually win games, for one thing. And rugby is a _real_ sport; we don’t wear tons of padding like those assholes on the football team.”

“He’s - we’re not dating,” Hux says faintly, feeling sick to his stomach. He wonders how many other people might have come to the same conclusion. “He’s - “

“Oh, I know, you guys broke up for a while,” Phasma says. “Mitaka told me. But he said he’d heard you guys on the phone and that you seemed to be back together now.”

Hux opens his mouth to deny it, then decides that there isn’t any point. He puts his hands over his face, trying to breathe.

“Oh, Hux,” Phasma says sympathetically. She sits down on his desk, disturbing his books, and squeezes his shoulder. “Really, don’t be so upset. I just told you I have a girlfriend - what do you think I’m going to do, turn you in?”

Hux looks up at her. “Have you said anything to anyone else about this? Has Mitaka?”

Phasma looks offended. “No! I mean, Mitaka and I have talked about it, obviously, and I’m sure he tells Thanisson everything, but no one else.”

Hux takes a deep breath. “I still don’t understand why you would take the risk of telling me about your girlfriend, unless - “ _Unless everyone already knows about me._ “If you really just want someone to take her to the dance, you could have asked Mitaka or Thanisson.”

Phasma shrugs. “I mostly just wanted to see if I could get you to admit it,” she says. “Maybe you don’t know this, but Mitaka has been low-key freaking out ever since you walked in on him and Thanisson. He was like 99% sure you were gay too, but he didn’t think that would necessarily stop you from reporting him if you decided that it was your duty. Or something stupid like that.”

“I told him I wouldn’t report him,” Hux says angrily. “I just didn’t want to tell him anything that he could use against me. Or that he could gossip about.” _And obviously I was right to be worried, since he told you_ , Hux thinks.

Phasma raises a blond eyebrow. She’s still leaning on Hux’s desk, looming over him. “You must not have spent much time around decent people in your life,” she says. “We’re not out to get you, Hux. Mitaka was afraid you’d turn him in, but he also just felt bad for you. He said you seemed like you were really hurting last fall, but that you obviously didn’t feel like you could talk to anyone about it.”

“It’s none of his business,” Hux snaps. “And I was fine.”

“Okay, whatever,” Phasma says, taking a step back and holding up her hands. “You want to hang out by yourself here in your Fortress of Solitude, fine by me. You going to bring goth dude to the dance or not?”

Hux bites his lip. He still isn’t sure if he and Ben are back together; they haven’t talked about it. But Ben had come back Christmas afternoon - had spent most of the week after Christmas with Hux, in fact. Wandering through the city together, with Ben’s shoulder bumping warmly against his, the kitschy Christmas lights and crowds of cheerful tourists had taken on an entirely different and much more charming complexion. And Ben has been calling a lot lately. Maybe if Hux makes some sort of gesture, like this - 

“I’ll ask him,” Hux says, eventually. “I don’t know if he’ll want to come.”

Phasma grins. “I’m sure he will,” she says. “I’m glad - if I had to dance with Mitaka or Thanisson I’d look like my mom made me bring my little brother to the party. Your boyfriend has terrible fashion sense, but at least he’s tall.”

***

Hux spends two mostly sleepless nights anxiously reviewing his conversation with Phasma and its possible implications. He bites his lips until they bleed. Finally he picks up the phone and calls Ben, his hand sweating on the receiver. 

“Hey!” Ben says eagerly, when he picks up. “What’s up? It’s good to hear from you!”

“Hi,” Hux says, his heart pounding. “I - well, you’ll probably think this is stupid, but - “ He hesitates. 

“But what?” Ben asks. “You sound really freaked out. You okay?”

“Yes - I just wanted to ask you, um. Do you want to come to the Valentine’s Day dance? With me?”

Ben laughs. “Okay, that’s definitely not where I was expecting this conversation to go,” he says. “What dance? Not the one at West Point, right?”

“The one at West Point.”

“I mean, sure, if you want,” Ben says. “But - how? As your friend or something? Anyway, I thought I was still banned for drawing gay porn.”

Hux sighs. He has mulled over that aspect of the situation at length and concluded that encouraging his classmates to think that Ben is dating Phasma might be the safest way to start bringing Ben back onto post. He also suspects that most of the other cadets are too intimidated by Phasma to interrogate her about it very closely. 

“My classmate Phasma asked if I could bring her girlfriend as my date,” Hux says, “and she offered to bring you as her date in exchange.”

“Wait,” Ben says, “does this mean you actually came out to somebody? And you told them about me?”

“Er,” Hux says. 

Ben half-laughs, half-sighs. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t actually do that. She just figured it out on her own?”

“Mitaka guessed and told her,” Hux says. “I knew he’d never be able to keep a secret.”

“Yeah, sounds terrible,” Ben says. “He told his lesbian friend and now you know you have two friends you can be honest with. Fuck that Mitaka, what an asshole.”

“Anyway,” Hux says, “does that mean you’re coming?”

“Do you want me there?”

Hux hesitates. “Yes,” he says, reluctantly. “I do. Just please don’t show up shirtless in a cape.”

Ben laughs. “I’ll be there,” he says. “And I’m touched that you still remember what I wore to the senior prom.”

“It’s permanently scarred into my memory.”

“Probably because you jerked off thinking about it so many times.”

“I’m not sure why you think I have a cape fetish,” Hux says. Admittedly, at the prom, he had been outraged by Ben’s outfit primarily because it had been so hard to look away from his bare chest. 

“It _was_ a really nice cape,” Ben says. “It was a silk velvet opera cape that belonged to my grandfather. I should dig it out and see how it looks now.”

“Oh God,” Hux says, “please don’t.”

“No promises,” Ben says.

***

“Why do you call him Ben when he introduced himself as Kylo?” Phasma’s girlfriend, Unamo, asks Hux. She has very high cheekbones and her pale blue eyes are unnervingly intense. She isn’t smiling.

“Because Ben is his real name,” Hux responds. “He just started calling himself Kylo a couple of years ago. He thinks it sounds cooler.”

“If he prefers it, then why don’t you use it?”

“Because ‘Kylo’ is a ridiculous name,” Hux says, a bit testily. “And he doesn’t mind if I call him Ben.”

“Did he say that?”

Hux shrugs irritably, looking out at the dance floor. Over the course of the evening, Hux has learned three things about Phasma’s girlfriend: that she plays rugby at Annapolis (“Yes, we’ve already heard all the ‘sleeping with the enemy’ jokes,” Phasma had said cheerfully); that her first name is Elizabeth, but she hates it; and that she doesn’t seem to believe in small talk. During dinner Hux and Phasma had managed to get assigned seats at the same table, so the awkwardness had been manageable: Phasma and Ben had done most of the talking. But now they’re in the Eisenhower Hall ballroom and Phasma and Ben have gone off to dance, leaving Hux and Unamo to stand stiffly by the wall. 

“I suppose we should dance too,” Hux says gloomily. Phasma and Ben seem to be enjoying themselves: Ben has just dipped Phasma backwards dramatically. They’re laughing. They make a striking pair - Phasma blond and sharp-edged in her full-dress uniform, with its brass buttons and gold chevrons; Ben still managing to look rather swoopingly batlike in his rented tuxedo, even though he has in fact foregone the opera cape as requested. Phasma is wearing a pair of gleaming black heels that Hux is almost certain are higher than the regulation limit of three inches. In them, she’s nearly a head taller than Ben. The cadets near them look as if they belong to a smaller, less interesting species of beings. 

“If you want,” Unamo says, reluctantly taking Hux’s hand. They sway awkwardly together through the rest of the song. At least with Unamo, Hux reflects, there isn’t the slightest need to worry that she will press up against him or try to kiss him. In fact she seems to be trying to hold her body as far away from his as possible without breaking away entirely.

To Hux’s great relief, Ben and Phasma come back over to join them when the music ends. Ben has his arm comfortably around Phasma’s waist. They make an entirely believable couple, and Hux feels an unreasonable flash of jealous irritation.

“Hux,” Ben says, bumping Hux’s shoulder, “your friend here is hilarious. Your school is even more insane than I realized.”

“Oh no, what’ve you been telling him?” Hux asks, looking at Phasma warily. 

“For one thing,” Ben says, “did you know they call this a ‘slut skirt’?” He gestures towards the crisp grey skirt Phasma is wearing with her full-dress tunic. “Your classmates are seriously deranged, I don’t even get it. This place is like the Taliban.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Nobody really says things like that anymore,” he says. “We had to sit through a briefing about how we aren’t supposed to call it that, so I guess maybe it used to be a problem, but it’s not something people say now.”

“How much time have you spent walking around post in a skirt, Hux?” Phasma asks, raising an eyebrow. Hux flushes. “Because they definitely still call it that. The first time my friend Rose wore it, when we were plebes, she only put it on because her pants were all at the cleaners. And then some douchebag upperclassman made her late to class by locking her up at attention and yelling at her for like ten minutes about how she was ‘trying to get guys like him in trouble’ and how if she wanted attention so bad he would give it to her.”

“Just like the Taliban,” Ben says again. 

“It kind of is, yeah,” Phasma says. “Honestly, that was the only reason I started wearing the uniform skirt - before I came here, I hadn’t worn a skirt since like elementary school. But after that happened to Rose I was like, okay, you guys have a problem with the skirt? Come after me if you want.” She grins. “For some reason people don’t seem to be so quick to bother me about it.”

“Phasma,” Ben says, “can I ask you something, for real?”

“What?”

“Why are you here?” Ben asks, looking at her intently. “Like, I get why Hux is here, because Hux has always been kind of insane. But you seem like a normal, reasonable person. Why does a normal person come here?”

Phasma looks amused. “Because I want to be an Army officer,” she says. “I want to be the first woman in the infantry; I want to go to Ranger school. And you know if they ever let any woman do that, it’s going to be a woman from West Point. I really don’t care about this place beyond what it can do for me. I mean, 99% of what goes on here is total bullshit that has nothing to do with being an Army officer.” 

Hux frowns. Phasma looks at him and laughs. “I know Hux doesn’t agree with me,” she says. “He loves all the stupid stuff they make us do here. It makes him happy for some reason.” Hux opens his mouth to argue, but she goes on. “Personally I think most of the ‘traditions’ are pointless - it’s like a self-licking ice-cream cone. All the bullshit just keeps perpetuating itself to infinity because the old grads scream bloody murder if anyone tries to change anything for the better.”

“That’s not true,” Hux says. He has a vivid memory of standing in formation during basic training, holding up the Cadet Knowledge book they had been ordered to memorize. The sun had been beating down on them. Hux had looked up from the verses of “The Corps” - _Grip hands, though it be from the shadows, while we swear as you did of yore... living, or dying, to honor, the Corps, and the Corps, and the Corps!_ \- and found himself staring at the hinge of the gothic stone door in front of him. It was made of iron, fastened to the door by three prongs - like a skeletal metal hand, reaching out towards Hux. In that moment the notion of the “long grey line” had seemed startlingly real to him, something solid that he could grip with both hands, something that could pull him out of the murk of the rest of his life. “The traditions do matter to people. They give meaning to what we’re here to do.”

“You mean the traditions are what makes it seem romantic to put on a uniform and march into a meat grinder,” Ben says, cocking his head at Hux. 

“Not quite what I meant, but okay,” Phasma says, glancing at Unamo. Unamo rolls her eyes. 

“I already know I’m not going to convince you of anything, anyway,” Hux says to Ben. His voice sounds more plaintive than he had intended.

There’s an awkward silence. “Anyway,” Ben says, “speaking of weird West Point things, something else I wanted to ask - Phasma, now that you guys are upperclassmen, does Hux haze people?”

“I do not,” Hux says indignantly, just as Phasma says “Oh, he absolutely does, he’s terrible.”

“Come on,” Phasma says, “are you really going to try to claim you’re not a haze? I’m pretty sure that poor plebe they assigned to you last semester is scarred for life. Although his uniform does look much better than it used to.”

“Well, exactly,” Hux says, somewhat nettled. “He used to come down to formation looking like he’d just pulled his uniform out of the trash. If I hadn’t corrected him someone else would have.”

“If by ‘corrected’ you mean ‘crushed his soul,’ then yeah, sure,” Phasma says. “That poor kid probably still has nightmares about your surprise inspections.”

Ben catches Hux’s eye and grins. “Wait, Hux does surprise inspections? I think I need to hear more about that.” 

Hux glares at him. Inspecting his assigned plebe’s uniform and room last semester had, in fact, sometimes uncomfortably brought to mind his games with Ben - a painful reminder which, he can admit to himself now, may have sometimes made him especially inclined to be harsh when confronted with deficiencies. He had been so determined to be perfectly professional. 

Fortunately Phasma isn’t paying attention to Ben. “Oh, and remember the time you made him write an entire paper about post-Soviet civil wars because he told you he didn’t know what Chechnya was?”

“That isn’t hazing,” Hux snaps. “Hazing is when you make someone do something degrading or dangerous for your own amusement. I was trying to develop him as a future officer.”

Phasma and Unamo exchange amused looks. “I know you truly believe that you’re doing the right thing, I’ll give you that,” Phasma says. She glances over her shoulder at the thinning crowd of cadets on the dance floor. “Anyway, I think we’ve probably checked the mandatory-heterosexuality block for this evening. Let’s get out of here.”

***

On the subway from Grand Central to the Upper East Side, Ben lets his head flop onto Hux’s shoulder. “I’m so tired,” he says. “I like Phasma, but pretending to be straight is exhausting.”

Ben’s hair is pleasantly warm and silky against the side of his neck, but Hux bounces his shoulder impatiently, trying to shrug Ben off. “I’m still in uniform, you can’t do things like that,” he whispers. “Anyway, what pretending? You’re actually attracted to women, it’s not that much of a stretch.”

“There’s a huge difference between hooking up with a girl because I feel like it and putting on a show for a bunch of assholes,” Ben says, sitting up and leaning forward on his knees. “And really, I can’t even put my head on your shoulder in public now? I mean, this is the subway. A 72-year-old man from Bratislava once slept on my shoulder for the entire length of Manhattan and I managed not to blow him afterwards.”

“How did you know he was from Bratislava?” Hux asks, momentarily distracted.

“Because he woke up as we were crossing into the Bronx and apologized, and we ended up chatting for a while,” Ben says. “Did you know that Bratislava has a thriving contemporary-arts scene?” 

“No, I had no idea.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you don’t let people sleep on you in public. You miss out on learning interesting things.”

“It’s just that I’m in uniform, otherwise I wouldn’t care,” Hux says under his breath. “Especially since this is obviously a West Point uniform. I don’t want someone to call up there and report me.”

“Oh my god, you’re so ridiculous,” Ben says irritably. “This is New York, no one cares. And I don’t know why you think anyone here would recognize that uniform - you mostly just look like you’re cosplaying the War of 1812.”

“That’s because that’s when these uniforms were designed.”

“I know, I know, you’ve explained that to me like five times already.” Ben flings his head back and leans against the rattling, smudged subway window, his expression mutinous. 

They’re mostly silent for the rest of the ride uptown. A freezing rain is falling when they emerge from the subway station at 86th Street; the wet lumps of sleet are just beginning to melt through Hux’s woolen layers when they arrive at the Solos’ apartment. Ben stomps moodily into the bathroom to shower. Hux debates following him in, but he doesn’t seem to want company. Instead Hux peels off his uniform, wincing at the smell of the wet wool, and hangs it up carefully. In his boxer shorts, he lies down to wait for Ben.

When Ben comes out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, he still looks annoyed, but his face softens at the sight of Hux curled up in his bed. He comes over and slides a hand through Hux’s still stiffly-gelled hair, ruffling it. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Hux says, tugging Ben towards him, breathing in the humid, freshly-showered scent of his damp skin. Ben tosses his towel towards a chair and flops down onto the bed. Naked, he curls around Hux, pressing his big nose into the side of Hux’s neck. But he turns his face away and yawns when Hux tries to kiss him. 

“I’m really tired, Hux,” he says, putting his hand over his face.

“Too tired for this?” Hux asks, wriggling around so that he can run the point of his tongue around the inner whorls of Ben’s ear. Ben shivers, his cock jerking against Hux’s thigh. 

“Mmm,” Ben says, closing his eyes. “Maybe not. But you might have to do all the work. I’m exhausted.”

Hux shrugs. “I can do that,” he says, not actually especially displeased by the opportunity to do whatever he wants to Ben’s warm, pliant body. The clean smell of him is making Hux hard, making him want his mouth all over Ben. He rubs up against Ben, still licking and nibbling at Ben’s ear. Ben squirms and makes a pleased little sound, closing his eyes. He slides his hands down Hux’s back, kneading his ass through his boxers, pulling their hips more firmly together. Hux pulls away, sitting up.

“No,” he says. “Hands behind your head. You said you wanted to me to do all the work, so you don’t get to touch me unless I tell you to.”

Ben opens his eyes and grins. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” But he folds his hands obediently behind his head. 

“Yes,” Hux says, admiring the way Ben looks spread out naked on the bed, the muscles bulging in his folded arms. He runs his hand lightly over Ben’s chest and stomach, down over his thighs, feeling the muscles twitch under his fingers. He straddles Ben, leaning down to nip and suck at the spots where he knows Ben is particularly sensitive: his other ear, the soft place just behind his jaw, the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He pushes his nose into the tuft of dark hair under Ben’s arm, where the scent of his body is stronger, and licks sharply at the thin skin there to make Ben jerk and laugh. 

By the time he’s worked his way down to lie between Ben’s legs, nibbling unhurriedly at Ben’s inner thighs, Ben is breathing harshly, rolling his hips to try to push his hard cock against Hux’s face. Hux lifts his head briefly to delicately lick a drop of pre-come off the head, then goes back to ignoring it, mouthing gently at Ben’s balls instead. 

“You’re fucking killing me,” Ben groans. “What do I have to do to get you to suck my cock already?”

“Nothing,” Hux says, breathing deliberately on the damp skin he had just been licking and the base of Ben’s cock. “I’ll decide when you get to come. After I’m finished with you.”

“I remember when you were too shy to even admit you wanted me to touch you,” Ben says. “I’ve created a monster.”

“You like it,” Hux responds, nuzzling at the spot just behind Ben’s balls. “Bend your knees. And spread your legs.”

“What are you - oh, fuck,” Ben gasps as Hux moves his mouth lower, tracing the rim of Ben’s hole with the tip of his tongue. “You don’t have to - I know you don’t like that - “

“I don’t know if I like it, I haven’t tried it,” Hux says, licking in experimental circles. It’s true that doing this had never seemed appealing to him, but Ben smells so good - and he definitely likes the frantic little noises Ben is making now, as he presses his tongue a little deeper and Ben’s body jerks against his face. He hums happily, getting into a rhythm, alternating between long, slow passes of his tongue and licking delicately around the rim. It tastes like - well, like Ben, like skin and clean sweat. 

“Oh fuck,” Ben is saying, “oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck_...” His thighs are trembling around Hux’s head. Hux grinds down against the bed, sliding his tongue easily in and out of Ben now, his cock aching between his legs at the desperate sound of Ben’s voice. Ben reaches down to stroke himself. Hux slaps his hand away.

“I didn’t tell you you could do that,” Hux says, looking up. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No - fuck - but I really need to come - you’re so fucking hot - “

“Get on your hands and knees, then,” Hux says, sitting up and reaching towards the drawer where he remembers that Ben used to keep condoms and lube; they’re still there. Ben scrambles to obey. Hux slides a hand into Ben’s hair, tugging his head back, enjoying the sight of his back arching as he spreads his legs for Hux. “I want to feel you come while I’m fucking you.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Ben groans, shuddering as Hux slides a lubed-up finger inside him, rolling his hips to get Hux to touch him exactly where he wants it. Hux strokes him only briefly before pulling his hand away and rolling on a condom, unable to bear teasing him any longer - listening to Ben whimper as Hux licked into him had worked Hux up much more than he had expected it would. He lines up his cock and begins slowly pressing forward, unable to stop himself from letting out an embarrassingly broken-sounding noise as Ben pushes his hips back eagerly. 

***

In the middle of the night, Hux wakes up unexpectedly, with a vague feeling that something is wrong. Outside, the sleet seems to have turned to hail; it drums ferociously against the windows. Next to him, Ben snuffles loudly, then breathes out in a harsh, unnatural way. Ben is - Ben is crying?

Hux puts a hand gingerly on Ben’s bare shoulder. “Are you all right?” he says. “What’s wrong?”

Ben sniffs again, his face turned away from Hux. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s fine, go back to sleep.”

“You’re obviously not fine. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Ben says. He takes a deep breath. “It’s just - like - I know that bringing me to that stupid dance was a really big step for you, and that’s great and I appreciate it, but - “

“But what?” Hux asks, a slightly nauseous feeling beginning to creep over him. 

“But I just don’t think I can keep doing this,” Ben says, all in a rush now. “I’m sorry - I love you - I really do, but all this pretending and sneaking around, I just can’t do it - “

“Really, you’re doing this to me again?” Hux snaps, getting out of bed and fumbling for a light switch. “I knew you would - I knew this would happen - I knew I was an idiot to have anything to do with you.”

“Hux - I’m sorry - I don’t know what to say - “ Ben is looking at him now, sitting up on his elbow. His dark eyes are red-rimmed and bits of his tangled hair are sticking to his damp face. 

“You don’t need to say anything. I’m leaving.” Hux snatches his uniform trousers off the chair and pulls them back on. His suspenders seem to have fallen off and disappeared under the desk, but he isn’t about to get down on the floor to look for them. He yanks his jacket on and begins fastening the row of brass buttons, his hands trembling. 

“Don’t leave,” Ben says, reaching for Hux’s wrist. Hux jerks away. “It’s three in the morning and it’s freezing and awful outside - where are you going to go?”

“Grand Central, to catch the five AM train,” Hux says, trying to keep his voice steady, sliding his feet into his still-damp leather dress shoes. “I’m certainly not going to stay here.”

Ben gets out of bed, still naked, and tries to put his arms around Hux. His body is hot from sleep. “Don’t leave like this,” he says, imploringly. “Please stay. At least until morning.”

Hux shoves Ben away, harder than he had intended to; the bed hits the back of Ben’s knees and he sits down with a _thump._ “Absolutely not,” he says, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. “I’ve wasted enough time here already.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben says again. “I do still love you - I really do - “

“Don’t bother,” Hux says, picking up his overcoat and heading for the front door. His face feels hot, as if the skin is pulled too tight around his eyes. Ben trails after him, wrapping the white sheet around himself, like a child pretending to be a ghost. 

“ _Hux_ ,” he says, one last time, as Hux shuts the door in his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: 
> 
> \- Angst/Dysfunctional Relationships: Ben and Hux continue to have issues (surprise, surprise). At one point, Hux shoves Ben away from him (it’s brief and Ben isn’t hurt, so I didn’t tag for violence, but let me know if you think I should). Ben and Hux will have a happy ending eventually, I promise, but not in this chapter.  
> \- Brendol’s excellent parenting is briefly referenced, and there are some references to Han and Leia arguing.  
> \- Medical Kink: very light. No medical instruments or props are involved. Basically just Hux pretending to “examine” Ben.  
> \- Referenced Sexism/Homophobia: Phasma complains about the male cadets who refer to the female uniform skirt as the “slut skirt.” Also, the impact of the homophobic DADT policy continues to be a theme.  
> \- Ableist Language: Ben refers to West Point and to Hux as “insane” and “deranged.”  
> \- Bottom Kylo: Overall this series will continue to have a switch/vers Kylux dynamic, but not in this specific chapter.  
>    
> Thank you so much for sticking with this story in spite of all the angst! This should be the last very angsty chapter. They’re going to continue to be idiots but things will get better in the next installment. 
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who commented/left kudos on previous chapters! I love y’all. Also, I’m on Twitter under the same username - come say hi!


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